Snippets and Snapshots
by albusseverusweasleypotter
Summary: The framed photographs on the dusty mantelpiece tell a story - a thousand and one moments that tell of the unrelenting bond of friendship,a blossoming love, and the unfathomable power of choice .OC/OC.SLASH


Chapter 1

A man stands before a wide picture window, looking out on a vast meadow dotted with the pink and black hides of several Miltank and the collective luminous glow from a small herd of Mareep as they graze idly on the lush greenery. The man's hair is a vibrant purple reminiscent of the scales that cover an Ekans' serpentine body; and his eyes, raking over the stretch of land before him with quiet intensity, are a deep, oceanic blue. His air is of someone who has aged greatly in a short span of time. Appearance-wise, he couldn't be a day over thirty, but many aspects of his person - his earnest stance, the stolid way he holds himself up, the heavy lines around his eyes - speak of someone who's witnessed several lifetimes' worth of grief and horror.

A flock of Starly flutter past. The man sighs, shakes his head, and looks away.

From the shadows, a creature emerges. Medium-sized and vulpine, it moves its lithe, slender form towards the man and brushes its tan body up against his legs like a cat. Bathed in the sunlight cascading in through the window, the animal's ears and tail – as green and crisp as leaves in summer – perk up and curl towards the balmy rays like plants.

"Leafeon," the man murmurs fondly, stopping down and gently scratching the creature behind its ears. It purrs and continues to curl itself around the man's legs.

The man smiles and glances back out onto the fields. In the distance, the vibrant pinpricks of a multitude of young berry-flowers growing abundantly on hundreds of trees flit in and out of vision as a golden cloud of Beedrill, Combee, and Vespiquen descend upon the unripe harvest to begin pollination.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the man says in a hushed tone. "I know he would've loved to see this…"

Leafeon blinks up at him. Suddenly, its nose and tail twitch and it turns its attention to the large oak door on the other side of the den.

The door bursts open. The man's entire body tenses and his posture immediately goes rigid – a fighting stance. His hand flies to his pocket and pulls out a metallic ball - brilliant scarlet on one side, ivory on the other, with a ring of jet black dividing the two halves and a single button located at its center.

"Papa!"

A young boy darts into the room, followed by a small, mousy brown animal.

The boy looks like a much younger version of the man – the same royal hair in gelled-up spikes, the same lanky frame (as though his creator had used mismatched joints and limbs when piecing him together). His eyes, however, are not the stormy Wailmer blue of his father's, but a rich, warm hazel, like molten Combee honey.

The animal trotting alongside him is compact and rather plain-looking – long, pointed ears, a ruff of cream-colored fur around its neck and a thick bushy tail.

The man releases the breath he had been holding and his body relaxes. He stoops down in front of the boy and gently grasps his shoulders.

"Thad, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" the man asks, eyes darting across the boy's gangly form, as if trying to detect any signs of injury.

The boy – Thad – shakes his head.

"Pa, I'm fine." Thad mutters, shrugging off the attention. "I was just wondering -," he fidgets nervously. "Couldn't we get my starter Pokémon from Dr. Elm today? I mean, it's not going to make much difference getting it today and getting it the day after tomorrow –"

The man grins and pats the boy on the head.

"Dr. Elm said you can get your starter this Friday. I'm sure you can wait two more days, kiddo. Besides, you already have Eevee here." He reaches down to pat the furry, brown bundle who yips happily at the contact.

"But, _Pa_ –"

The man just smiles and walks over to the fireplace. On the mantle are several picture frames. He picks up the nearest one and gazes at the photograph fondly.

"You know, I still remember back when I got my first Pokémon." the man says, a slight tinge of sadness finding its way into his voice.

The picture is of two boys, one blond, the other purple-haired, their arms around the other's shoulders and their boyish grins frozen in time. At the bottom of the photo are two names written in messy, childish scrawls – Cedric and…

-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v

"Xander!"

A long stretch of beach, surrounded by steep cliffs and rocks jutting out from the ocean like the tremulous jaws of a Sharpedo, like sentinels guarding the bay. The sound of the waves lapping up against the shore, the noisy caw of the Wingulls and Pelippers as they soared overhead, and the yell of one boy as he repeatedly called out that one name – "Xander!"

The boy was racing down the beach. His _Electabuzz _baseball cap lay askew over a mop of sandy hair. The sand crunched beneath his sandaled feet. In the distance, a pod of Wailord could be seen bobbing along the sea's surface, their enormous backs treading water and glistening in the late morning sun.

All of a sudden, he skidded to a halt. The boy bent over and gasped for breath, clutching the stitch at his side.

"Ugh, Xander, _where_ _are __you_?" he groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"- and then I heard that in some far-off region, there are three lakes and each lake houses a legendary Pokemon –"

His ears perked up.

"- then in another place, they have this huge volcano and it rains ashes all the time!"

The voice – a very familiar one – was coming from behind a nearby dune.

He bounded up the small hill in a flash. Sure enough, the object of his search was on the other side.

Another boy was sitting on a rock, his feet submerged in the shallows. Strands of unusual purple hair peeked out from his too-big, threadbare paperboy cap. Around him was a small group of beach Pokémon – a Staryu sunbathing lazily on the sand, its red jewel sparkling beautifully, a pair of chatty Wingulls perched on another rock, plucking at the moss with their long beaks, and a Lantern with its Chinchou young drifting about in the water, their eyes cast on the boy in rapt attention.

"Xander!"

The boy looked up, saw him, and turned away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"H-hey, Ced…"

"Dude!" the first boy – Ced – exclaimed, skidding down the dune and rushing up to the second boy – Xander. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Hey, you guys," he added to the group of assembled creatures, who chirped merrily in reply.

"Did you forget what today is?" Ced demanded, hopping down to sit next to Xander, who flinched. "The most important day of our lives and _I __go __to __your __house __to __find __you __gone_! I thought we agreed we'd face today together! The ol' doduo act and all that crap!"

"Sorry," the purple-haired boy mumbled, looking away again. "It's just…you know…"

Ced's eyes widened. He suddenly noticed how the other boy was holding himself – the slumped posture, the badly-hidden grimace, the arms crossed protectively over his stomach.

"Let me see," the blond boy said in a low voice.

"I-it's nothing!" Xander's voice was suddenly high and nervous and his arms tightened around his torso. "Just a s-stomachache, that's all! N-nervous for the b-big day, y'know. Haha!" he forced a laugh.

Ced glowered at him. It was a look so serious that it was almost comical.

"I'm _fine_, Ced."

Ced didn't look too convinced but dropped the issue. For a few moments, the two of them sat there, staring off into the distance. Overhead, a flock of Pidgey and Pidgeotto glided along the breeze, like brown, feathery kites.

"It's great, though, isn't it?" Cedric said, breaking the silence. "A few hours from now, we'll get our starters and then we'll get to travel all over Johto and who knows where else? The world's a pretty big place; I don't think we'll ever run out of fun stuff to do! Just you wait, Corn, it's gonna be awesome! Just you and me, and our –"

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_(14 hours earlier)_

" –Pokémon?"

Xander stood in the doorway, his young face eerily shadowed as the light from the TV screen fell upon him ("- _and __next __up __is __the __lead __singer __from __the __famous __band, __Guns __and __Roserades __-_). The room was dark but it did nothing to hide the boy's anxiety.

"P-pardon, s-s-sir?"

He winced at the recurring stutter that often plagued his voice.

The man stretched out on the ratty, heavily-patched recliner and scratched his distended belly. He held up a bottle to his lips, drained it of its contents, and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the wall and shattered noisily. Xander flinched at the sound but remained rooted to the spot, shoulders trembling.

The man let out a loud belch.

(- quite _influential_ _in __the __golden __era __of __music, __of __course. __Now, __can __you __tell __us _-)

"I said," he slurred, popping open another bottle. "Wha'chou gonna do once that Professor Tree or whatever –"

"Doctor Elm, sir,"

"_Did __I __say __you __could __talk_?" he brandished the now half-empty bottle threateningly. "Anyways, what're ya plannin' on doin' once that professor gives ya yer Pokémon?"

Xander hesitated. He bit his lip and decided that the filthy shag rag, stained from years of negligence, was an interesting spectacle. His feet were quaking in the battered shoes that had once been his brother's.

"_Speak, __boy!_"

"W-well, uh," he swallowed the bile that had built up in his throat. "I-I was th-th-thinking I could maybe j-join some P-Pokémon c-contests?"

He had lowered his voice to barely a whisper at the last two words, but it was enough.

The bottle exploded into shards as it crashed into the wall above his head. The week-old beer pooled at his feet, the pungent but familiar odor assaulting his nostrils.

_Oh __no._

( _-__the __success __has __been __overwhelming; __it__'__s __always __a __fantastic __feeling __when __someone __from __the __younger __generation __tells __me _-)

The man was standing now. His mouth was wrenched into a disgusting sneer and the veins in his head were bulging horribly. His eyes – a dark navy blue, just like Xander's – were cold and furious as he glared down at the boy. Xander felt his insides go cold, as though someone had released a Snorunt into his circulation and it was making a job of turning his blood into ice.

_Please ,__please, __please, __no__…__._

"_Contests_?" the man let out a mirthless laugh.

"Y-yes, s-s-sir,"

"Those sissy, namby-pamby contests where all those girls and fags come together to show off their wimpy Pokémon?" he spat. "The ones that are all about how _pretty_ and _beautiful_ everything is?"

_Please __don__'__t, __not __again__…_

Xander said nothing. He bit his lip. What was wrong with trying to see the beauty in everything? Wasn't that what life was bout? He felt uneasy; the old wounds were throbbing again, like some sort of warning signal. The bruises, some as old as a couple of weeks and the freshest barely two days old, burned white-hot and tender against his skin.

( _-__all __kinds __of __music, __one __day __it __might __be __the __Black-Eyed __Caterpies, __the __next __it __might __be __Bare __Naked __Ledyba_-)

"Well? Are those the ones you're talkin' about?" the man said, raising his voice. His eyes, usually half-closed in the haze of a drunken stupor, were now wide, threatening to pop out from their sunken sockets. His face was flushed scarlet, his lips curled in obvious distaste and he leered menacingly at the boy while his fists clenched into tight balls at his side. Xander vaguely thought of an Exploud he once saw in a traveling performance ring that came to their town when he was younger. It had dressed up in a ruffled, polka-dotted dress with crimson rouge painted on its cheeks. Save for the outfit, the man matched the image in such a way that it was both alarming and amusing. Xander felt that he would've laughed if he didn't feel so much like crying right then as the man loomed over him like some titan threatening to squash its prey.

_Oh, __Arceus, __please, __please__…_

The pain was sudden and intense. It spread across his abdomen like ripples in a pond. He fell to the floor and doubled over, gasping. He felt his eyes tear up as he hugged his stomach where the man's thick fist had collided.

"Those contests are for fuckin' queers!" the man was howling now. He grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and lifted him effortlessly off the floor so that they were face to face. Xander felt the tears trail down his cheeks but he didn't dare make a sound, in spite of the (almost routine) pain that racked his thin frame. The man's temper was as volatile as the cheap Shuckle wine he was always guzzling down. "Are ya a queer, boy? _Are __ya_?"

He shook the boy violently. Xander bit down a whimper as the pain intensified.

"N-n-no, s-s-sir!" the boy squeaked. His throat felt full with suppressed sobs.

(- _once __did __a __collaboration __performance __with __Claydol __Aiken __at __the __last __Silver __Conference__-_)

"Listen, ya brat," the man hissed into his face. Xander resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose as the mixed stench of alcohol and rotting enamel permeated the air between them. "If you ever even _think_ about joinin' one of those poof-fests, you can forget about ever comin' back here! I'll make you wish that you'd never been born, boy - that I'd kicked that damn whore in the stomach when she was pregnant with ya!_No __son __of __mine__'__s __gonna __be __a __fag_! _Understand_?"

"Y-yes, sir!"

"_What __was __that_?"

(_-__and __what __do __you __make __of __the __works __of __modern-day __artists? __Like __Miltank __Cyrus, __Justin __Bidoof, __and __Britney __Spearows _-)

"Yes, d-dad," he said and, even to him, his voice sounded broken and defeated. "I under –"

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"- stand?"

Doctor Elm's lecture hall was adjacent to his laboratory. It was a long, narrow room, occupied by rising rows of seats facing a blackboard that ran along the entire length of the wall opposite them. Charts, graphs and tarps depicting statistics, research findings and proposals were stuck to every available surface.

Doctor Elm was standing at his podium and the nurse from the Pokémon Center stood next to him. There were only five other occupants of the room, seated in the front row.

"So, you might encounter some of these rare species on your journeys." He said. "A few decades ago, the concept of 'region-exclusive' Pokémon was eliminated from the equation when several species poached from the Sinnoh and Hoenn regions were brought in for illegal trading. These species managed to escape due to disruptions in the group's operations and started to breed right here in Johto, adapting to an environment that was quite different from that of their home habitats. However, due to significant differences between variables such as weather patterns, indigenous plant life, and etcetera, you'll find that –"

"Ah, Shinx," Cedric groaned quietly. "If I'd known that we'd have to listen to a _lecture_ before we got our starters…"

"I think it's fascinating!" said Xander earnestly. He had been listening to Dr. Elm's discussion with rapt attention. His friend gave him a look and his shining expression faltered. "..er…I-I mean…uh…"

Cedric laughed.

"Hey, man, it's cool," the blond boy said, grinning at the crimson staining Xander's cheeks. He almost looked like a Pichu."If you wanna be a supernerd on our journey, be my guest! Who knows, maybe you could discover some kind of technique that'd give me a one-up in my gym battles!"

Xander gave his friend a small smile before turning back to listen to the doctor ramble.

"Now, I'll be explaining to you the different functions of the Pokedex –"

Cedric groaned again before banging his head lightly on the desk. Xander bit back a laugh.

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Joni finally came out of the room. And marching clumsily along in her wake was a –

"Is that a Torchic?" Cedric asked, peering down at the little orange chick.

"Isn't he _adorable_?" Joni exclaimed, glowing. She gathered her starter into her arms. "I named him Gideon."

Cedric made a face, but said nothing. Gideon clucked affectionately and ran its beak through its trainer's hair.

"You're next, Xander," Joni said, giving the boy a reassuring smile and heading over to the group of kids who had already received their starters.

The purple-haired boy smiled weakly, nodded and entered the doctor's office.

"Hello, Xander," said Dr. Elm warmly. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and gestured to the stool on the other side of his desk. "Please, take a seat."

Xander sat down, fidgeting him the folds in his shirt. While the doctor typed something into his rather outdated computer, he looked around the office.

It was a small and cramped room. A bookshelf filled with musty tomes and strange metal instruments filled up at least half of the room. Blinds were drawn over the only window. Papers and folders covered the desk and the desk itself was old and worn-looking (were those claw marks?). Dog-eared books and research materials were scattered over every available surface. And sitting on top of the monitor of the computer was a bird Pokémon.

The bird was small and had a spherical body (which also doubled as the creature's head). Its tail feathers, feet, and the single crest on top of it were a deep scarlet. Its wings were short and stubby and Xander seriously doubted they would be able to keep the bird's rotund form afloat for more than a minute.

"Xander, this is Natu," the doctor explained. The bird hopped off the computer and perched itself on the man's shoulder. "It's going to help us determine who your starter should be." He pointed to a pile of Pokeballs on his desk.

"Um..o-okay?"

"Natu is a Psychic-type. It's going to look through your mind and assess your personality. Then it's going to match you with your ideal starter!"

"But, um, doctor?" Xander ventured. "Why d-do we have to 'm-m-match' exactly? Didn't people used to p-pick their o –"

"Ah!" he jumped up and a manic gleam appeared in his eyes, as though he had been itching to answer such a question but no one had ever bothered to ask him. "You see, the best way for any Pokémon-Trainer team to work is a mutual quest for betterment. The same desire to improve must burn intensely in the hearts of both parties." He sat back down and adjusted his glasses again. "It's just a matter of finding out which Pokémon can bring out the best in its trainer and vice versa. They are not tools or pets, after all, but partners. The team you will form will be based on a symbiotic relationship - the Pokémon learning from its trainer and the trainer learning from the Pokémon."

He finished his speech and Xander briefly wondered if he should applaud.

"So, are you ready?" Dr. Elm asked, arranging the balls in a neat line.

Xander gulped and nodded.

Natu chirped, fluttered up on the air, and landed on his head. He flinched at the contact, feeling the bird's talons gently tap his skull. Then a horrible thought struck him – what if he _didn__'__t_ have an ideal starter? What if Doctor Elm changed his mind and sent him home? Then he'd have to stay with his dad until Arceus knows when! Maybe forever! He didn't think he could survive that!

More agonized thoughts filled his head and his whole body began to shake. What if, what if, what if -?

The tiny bird chirped once more, its eyes glowed a magnificent blue, and suddenly the jumble of horrid ideas vanished. Instead, a rush of memories reeled through his mind's eye, as though someone had compiled hundreds of moments from his life and was projecting them onto a screen in fast forward, then rewinding, then forward again.

_"__-__hiya! __My __name__'__s __Cedric! __What__'__s __yours?__"_

_ "- she's gone, kiddo. Looks like it's just you, me, and dad no –"_

_ "- go on our journey together! I'll become the next champion and you'll be –"_

_ "- have to go away for a while. Take care of dad while I'm gone, won't you –"_

_ "- ya little bastard! I'll teach you –"_

_ "- that's enough outta ya, you arrogant little whe -"_

_"__-__with __ya!__No __son __of __mine__'__s __gonna __be __a __fag!__"_

_ "- the ol' doduo act –"_

_ "- and the trainer learning from the Pokemon!"_

And then he was back in the office, feeling dazed. It had felt as though his mind had temporarily flitted out of his body and had returned by jettisoning itself from the top of Mt. Silver and diving back in.

"A bit uncomfortable, isn't it?" Doctor Elm said lightly. "But, one does get used to it. Now, if you please, Natu –"

The bird fluttered down and settled on the paper-strewn desk. It stared intently at Xander for a few moments and the boy felt distinctly unsettled by its scrutiny – as though it were looking right through his head and into his soul.

Finally, Natu blinked and its eyes began to glow with the same shimmering blue light. All of a sudden, one of the Pokeballs floated up into the air, engulfed in the same blue light. The metal ball drifted towards the boy and stopped in midair right in front of him. Xander's eye widened. He looked to Doctor Elm, who smiled and nodded. With trembling fingers, he reached out and grasped the ball in his hands. It felt warm, as if he could feel the living, breathing creature lying beneath the metal surface.

"Go on, open it,"

Xander tentatively pressed the small white button. The ball opened at the middle and in a burst of light, a small animal appeared on his lap…

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"A Squirtle! Cool!"

"Aw, man, I wanted that one!"

"He's _so_ cute! Can I hold him for a bit?"

Xander flushed at the sudden attention. The little blue turtle Pokémon the doctor had given him was dozing; its head nestled in the crook of his arms. It had been asleep when he had released it from the Pokeball and he didn't want to wake it from its peaceful slumber.

But with all the commotion going on, the Pokemon's eyes fluttered open. It looked around curiously before settling its gaze on the nervous face above it.

"H-hi, Squirtle," Xander said, giving it what he hoped was a welcoming sort of smile. "I-I'm Xander…your, er, trainer."

It blinked up at him and cocked its head to the side.

"I'm not v-very good at Pokémon…well, I'm not very good at a-anything, really, but I hope we can be good f-friends,"

It blinked again.

"So h-how about it…p-partner?"

The turtle smiled and Xander received a friendly blast of water to the face before Squirtle snuggled back into the crook of his arm, buried its head in his chest and went back to sleep.

-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v

"Don't you wanna know why I named him Rad?"

They had just left Cedric's house. His mother had started bawling and hugging both of them, sniffling out things like 'how much you've grown' and 'can't believe it's time'. She had begun peppering their faces with kisses when Ced's father had finally dragged her off. His little sister had tearfully demanded that she be allowed to go on a journey too ("No, sweetie, not till you're older." "But, _mom_ –"). Mrs. McGowan had pressed a small pile of snacks onto each of them (a few slices of Oran Berry pie, a couple of egg and cheese sandwiches, and some blocks of fudge) and they had made their hasty escape before Mr. McGowan had had time to give his you're-old-enough-now-so-you-need-to-take-some-responsibility-yada-yada-yada speech ("He'll be so disappointed – he spent all week practicing!").

Now, the two of them were walking down the road towards the city line, backpacks heavy on their shoulders, stopping occasionally to say goodbye to a neighbor or two. Next to them, glancing around excitedly and apparently enraptured by all the sights, were Hamlet the Squirtle and Rad the Chikorita.

"I-if you wanna tell me," Xander replied, reviewing the checklist of essentials for the journey in his mind.

"Well, when I first saw him, I first thought of a radish, you know. So that's what I named him – Radish. Rad for short." Ced puffed out his chest proudly, as though the idea was of an immensely complex magnitude that only he could comprehend it.

"I still don't get why you named your Squirtle 'Hamlet' though." the blond said. "It looks more like a 'Benny' to me."

Hamlet scowled at the suggested name and moved closer to its trainer.

"Xavier loved Shakespeare," Xander replied.

"Hey," Cedric said, suddenly stopping in his tracks. "aren't we going back to your house? Pack some stuff? Say g'bye to your dad?"

"No!" Xander yelled, eyes wild. His breathing sped up and he felt his chest tighten. The many wounds and cuts that defiled his body flashed white hot at the mention of his father.

Cedric's brow furrowed.

"I-I m-mean," Xander wrung his hands, mind racing. "I-I already did all th-that yesterday."

"You sure?" Cedric's eyebrows were now raised in bewilderment and a slight suspicious tone gripped the edge of his voice.

"Yeah, yeah!" Xander replied quickly, setting off again at a brisk pace. "P-p-packed, said goodbye, cleaned my room, a-all that stuff – d-d-done."

"Well, if you're sure…" Cedric trailed off, his eyes flashed for a moment before his trademark cheery grin returned.

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The outskirts of Cherrygrove were bright and green. A dirt path stretched out before them, flanked on both sides by roughly cut grass and slightly overgrown trees and bushes. An old wooden sign was erected a few feet from where the concrete ended – 'You are now leaving Cherrygrove City. Violet City, 25 – ahead'.

"Look out, world!" Cedric bellowed. "For the next Champion," he jabbed his thumb at himself. "and the next Top Coordinator!" he thumped Xander on the back. "And their loyal partners, of course." he added, gesturing to Hamlet and Rad.

Xander grinned. His heart was pounding and the realization was beginning to dawn on him.

No more cleaning up broken beer bottles or brushing the smell of whiskey off his clothes before going out. No more daily beatings. No more tiptoeing around like a Rattata afraid of waking the Purugly (and, in a way, that's exactly what the situation had been). No more sneaking out to the pharmacy to buy ointments, liniments and what-have-you-ments for his bruises.

He was _free_.

He almost couldn't believe it. He was almost giddy at the thought of it.

Xander glanced over his shoulder. The final few houses of the suburbs that made the border of the city, the towering buildings and structures of big corporate businesses and companies, and, somewhere beyond all that, was the house of his childhood. The house wherein his father was probably passed out drunk in front of the television, where a thousand and one beatings had taken place, where his mother had spent her last few months fighting a lost battle against an illness that slowly robbed her of what would have been a beautiful life…

…he hoped that his dad wouldn't squander all the checks his brother sent on more scotch and bourbon.

"Hey, Corn!" Cedric yelled. He was already several yards ahead. "I'll race you to Violet City!"

Xander laughed, picked Hamlet up, and shot after the other boy.

He didn't know what was in store for him out there – the world's a big place, Cedric had said – but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

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**A/N: It's all downhill from here, folks!**

**It's been a while since I've written a fanfic. Seriously, I can't remember the last time I finished one.**

**I'm not really sure if this is that good. Personally, it's not up to my usual standards of writing but my muse is being a b*tch and is nagging me to write so...And the shameless amount of Pokemon references and idioms...*facepalm***

**Please read and review if you have the time! Constructive criticism is welcome! Grammar mistakes? Misspelling? Frustrating method of writing? Crappy and unmoving storyline? Please help me improve!**

**Now, some details that need pointing out:**

**The main reason why the first part is present tense is because, well, it's the present...everything else that's in past tense is like a memory/flashback thingie...confusing? Yup!**

**Doctor Elm? I thought he was a professor?...I think 'Doctor' sounds cooler so bleh.**

**The _Electabuzz_ is a baseball team often mentioned by the character Casey in the anime (particularly the Johto saga).**

**Most of the artist/band parodies are from Shoeless Artist on DA (.com/gallery/27322686#/d34b7sx). Check out the art - totally awesome (I'm not shamelessly promoting - seriously, his art is fantastic!).**

**Why Ced sometimes calls Xander 'Corn' will be addressed in later chapters (yes, I plan to write more...*gasp*)**

**I didn't include a unit for the distance between Cherrygrove and Violet...meh, just imagine one. Let's just say the unit on the sign was erased by time/vandalism/etc.**


End file.
